Dragoncrest Cliffs from grueling anxiety

The queen’s gentle touch was therapeutic. Healing. Njord leaned into her, but knew their hearts would be bereft with sadness for many moons. The lilt in Erzulie’s voice stuttered, almost hoarse from heartache. The quaking words of a grieving mother sent shivers down his spine.

Regin.

Amidst the chaos they had lost one of their youngest to the storm. Though they had all searched, no sign of the youth had turned up. Njord could not imagine the pain and burden Erzulie carried. He draped his head across her nape, pulling her into a hug against his chest. No words felt sufficient enough to ease this great loss. He felt like an unarmed man, without knife or shield. Powerless to stop the will of the natural world.

“Aye,” he whispered softly in agreement.  He opened his mouth to say more… words of comfort or words to reassure.

We’ll find her.
Maybe she is happy, safe, and warm somewhere.
I won’t let this happen again.

…but all he could muster was to hold Erzulie a bit tighter, and repeat, sadly, again.
“…aye.”